


Laat do Eylok

by SpunkyGayMonkey (Demonic_Moriarty)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-29 18:56:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5138888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonic_Moriarty/pseuds/SpunkyGayMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What the hell took me so long you ask? Well to that I have a simple answer: I'm lazy as fuck. I have at least 20 chapters already written, sooo yeah.</p>
        </blockquote>





	1. Gein

Daro’akha jerked awake when the carriage bounced over a rock. He was slumped forward and bound. 

“Ah good you're awake,” the man across from him greeted. He didn’t give Daro’akha time to respond before he continued talking. 

“No offence, but shut up,” Daro’akha said quietly. He stared out past the trees, watching deer and rabbit run from them. 

Everyone fell quiet, looking down at their feet. Except for the man beside him, the only one with his mouth gagged. 

Daro'akha turned his head to stare the man down, "What?" 

"Watch your tongue! That is Ulfric Stormcloak! He's-" the man in front of him started. 

Daro'akha cut him off with a growl, "I know who he is. Just stop staring at me." 

The Helgen walls were fast approaching and the horse thief began whining again. The blonde Stormcloak talked about his past. Ulfric just stared openly at Daro'akha. 

The elf ground his teeth and did his best to ignore the three men. 

When the cart stopped they all filed out, Daro'akha making sure he went last. 

The Imperial soldier shouting caught his attention, "Archers!" 

He watched the horse thief take off and get shot down, a smile playing at his lips. 

"You there, elf, who are you?" One of the soldiers looked between him and his list. 

"My name is hardly important, since you are damning me to the block. But I suppose it would make you feel better? To place some sort of guilt upon me? So be it, Daro'akha is my name," he said, annoyed. 

"Daro'akha? Isn't that Khajiit? You're an elf! Granted, no type of elf I have ever seen but an elf!" The soldier furrowed his brow. 

"Once I am dead, send my body to Winterhold, please and thank you," Daro'akha nodded and calmly strode over to the line of prisoners. 

Daro'akha watched numbly at the first beheading. He didn't even flinch when he himself was shoved onto the block. His eyes followed a distant creature flying in towards them. "Dragon," he whispered. 

The ground shook and the sky darkened as the dragon screamed. It landed on a tower and locked eyes with Daro'akha. 

Without thinking he left to his feet and followed several others into the other tower. 

"Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" The blonde Stormcloak stared with wide eyes. 

"Last I checked, a legend can't do this kind of damage," Daro'akha started up the stairs. 

"Where are you going?" One of the Stormcloaks yelled. 

"Oh you know, I wanna talk to it about its behavior," Daro'akha replied in a serious tone. 

"Who is this kid?" He heard behind him. 

The dragon burst through the wall and fire flooded the staircase. Daro'akha jumped away and took cover behind some debris. 

Once the dragon flew off he walked to the hole and looked down. "Wonderful," he braced himself and leapt out. There was a loud thud as he hit the floor and rolled. 

His bound hands disoriented him a little but he had no trouble making his way across Helgen and into the keep. 

"My name is Ralof, by the way," the blonde man said as he cut his hands free. 

"That's nice," Daro'akha went through the disturbingly familiar routine of looting a corpse. Easily putting the dead man's armor on as Ralof looked around. 

"Damn, locked. The other one can't be opened from our side," Ralof sighed. 

"So you trapped us," Daro'akha stated. 

"I..." The Stormcloak stopped when they heard two people approaching. 

Daro'akha immediately dropped to a crouch and hid in the shadows. Once the door opened he wasted no time swinging his axe, hitting the closer Imperial in the head. There was a sickening crunch as he fell to the floor. 

The captain stared at him with horrified eyes before screaming and running at him, sword drawn. 

Daro'akha easily evaded the captain by side stepping. He kicked his leg out, tripping her. 

"Filthy Rebel!" She screamed up at him. 

"Sure, why not," Daro'akha shrugged and brought the axe down, cutting her head off in one blow. 

Ralof stood staring at him with wide eyes. 

"Shall we?" Daro'akha crouched to pick a key off the captain's corpse. 

Ralof followed in stunned silence, rarely having to draw his sword as the elf hacked his way through the keep. 

Once outside Ralof finally spoke, "With skills like those, you should think of joining the rebellion." 

"Should I now?" Daro'akha smirked as he walked down the mountain path, ignoring the dragon flying overhead. 

"You would be invaluable!" Ralof kept his pace. "By the way, what kind of elf are you? You don't seem like any kind I have ever seen." 

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever pass through Windhelm," Daro'akha suddenly veered off the path and casually walked through the woods.


	2. Ziin

Ralof had suggested he go to Riverwood, instead Daro'akha walked through the the woods to the Whiterun stables. He had just enough gold to hire the carriage to Winterhold. 

It was a long and cold ride back home. Daro'akha could practically smell the fear of the carriage driver as they approached the tiny city. 

"I appreciate it," Daro'akha jumped from the cart and paid the driver.m

The man took off without another word, just a quick glance back at the college. 

Daro'akha shook his head and ducked into The Frozen Hearth, the only business left in Winterhold. With his hood drawn everyone gave him suspicious glances, as they could not see his face. He took a seat beside a lone Argonian, a strange sight this far north. 

"Listen, I don't care who you are, beat it," she growled. 

"Hurtful," Daro'akha pouted. 

The lizard jerked in surprise, turning to stare at the hooded elf, "It couldn't be...Daro'akha?" 

The elf pushed the hood back to reveal his long, dirty hair and his muddy face, "Hello, Mother." 

"Oh, I thought I would never see you again!" She all but shouted. 

"Almost never did. Just came from Helgen, destined for the block," Daro'akha sneered as he played with a grilled leek. 

"I heard the news of what happened, I hoped you weren't there," she sighed. 

"I was. But in a way, the dragon saved me. Alduin saved me," he practically whispered the last part. 

"Alduin? Was that one of the other prisoners?" The Argonian stared at him with hopeful eyes, willing him not to say it. 

"It's the dragon," he met her eyes, unwavered. 

"Daro'akha," she sighed. 

Daro'akha focused on the leak in his fingers. "I didn't want to come back, you know. After what happened." 

"I still won't apologize, I did what I had to to protect you," she said stubbornly. 

"Okurava," Daro'akha crossed his arms. 

"No, you may not be of my blood but you are still my son, Snow Elf or not," She argued.

Daro'akha narrowed his silver eyes at the lizard, "You lied to me. For years! I always thought I was just different, now you tell me I am the last of my kind. Oh wait, unless I want to go be a Falmer."

"You obviously aren't the last of your kind! You have to have parents somewhere," Okurava said, determined. 

Daro'akha huffed, "I don't want to meet them. I have my parents, you and Shabvi. You two raised me. And while I am not fond of the way this happened, you are still my parents." 

Okurava smiled, "It warms my heart to hear you say that."

"I am going to head home...it's been a long couple days," Daro'akha rose from the bench. 

"I'll walk with you," Okurava wrapped her heavy, troll skin cloak around herself. She hooked her arm with Daro'akha and rested her head on his shoulder. 

They walked in silence back to their house, about ten minutes out of town, set back in the mountains. 

The house was warm for Okurava, so she draped her cloak over a chair. 

A Khajiit with graying fur was lounging by the flames, drifting out of consciousness. Empty Skooma bottles littered the floor. 

"It was difficult for him, coping with the fact that you may have left forever," Okurava explained sadly. 

Daro'akha crouched beside his father, "Shabvi, get up." 

The Khajiit grumbled and turned away. 

The elf sighed and grabbed an almost empty bottle of Skooma. He stepped back and slowly dumped the alcohol onto Shabvi. 

"What the fuck!" Shabvi shouted and scrambled to stand. 

"Hello to you too," Daro'akha smirked. 

"Daro'akha? You have came home!" Shabvi exclaimed and wrapped the elf in a hug. 

"I had a close brush with Arkay and decided it best to come home. Put my anger behind me," Daro'akha hugged the Khajiit. 

"Have you heard of what happened at Helgen?" Shabvi sat at the small table shoved in the corner. 

Daro'akha sighed and sat across from him, "I was there. Destined for the block and the dragon, Alduin, saved me. I don't think that was the plan, but he made my escape possible." 

"Alduin?" Shabvi furrowed his brow. 

"That's the dragon's name," Daro'akha whispered. 

Shabvi fell silent, looking back at Okurava. 

"I know, it sounds crazy but...I just feel this thing inside of me," Daro'akha desperately explained. He had hoped that of all the people in Skyrim, his parents would believe him. 

"Daro'akha, it's probably been exhausting. Why don't you get some rest," Okurava suggested gently. "We can see if you feel better what you wake." 

"I'm not crazy!" Daro'akha stood fast enough to send his chair flying. "I mean I'm already a freaky elf that no one has seen in probably hundreds of years! Why can't I talk to dragons too?" 

Both his parent fell silent. 

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I would like to clean up," he was suddenly calm as he picked up the fallen chair. He opened the door to the cellar, where he had lived for as long as he could remember, and warmed some water in his makeshift fireplace. 

He methodically removed the Stormcloak armor he had been wearing since he escaped the keep, stuffing it into his dresser. He sat on his bed in just his underclothes, listening to his parents move around upstairs; he heard several hushed words as they argued. 

Deciding to ignore them, he dumped the warm water into the washbasin and grabbed a rag. He wiped off mud and blood to reveal his snowy blue-white skin. Blood rinsed from his hair, leaving it a bright clean white. 

Too tired to deal with the dirty water he found a pair of leather pants and lounged on his bed. He looked around the small cellar and decided that he could stay here. He didn't need adventure.


	3. Sed

Daro'akha woke with a feeling of dread in his gut. He crinkled his nose at the thought of having felt this way before.

He found an old vest and secured the clasps before making his way upstairs.

Shabvi was still sleeping and Okurava was setting out two steaming bowls of soup. "I figured you would keep your habit of waking with me," she smiled softly and sat down with a spoon.

Daro'akha silently sat at the second bowl, eating quietly.

"I don't think you are crazy," Okurava said lowly. "I think you were tired."

Daro'akha nodded.

Okurava sighed, "We'll need more firewood soon."

"I can cut some after I finish eating," Daro'akha offered.

"Oh I can wake Shabvi, he can do it," she smiled.

"I'm awake now," Daro'akha stood slowly, "and finished with my soup. It's no trouble, I need a distraction anyhow." He walked to the door and grabbed the woodcutters axe.

His heritage meant he did not get cold, so he wasn't surprised when a gust of air into the house made Okurava shiver but did not faze him. He walked around the back of the house to the chopping block and set to chopping the logs. Losing himself in the work he started thinking about Helgen. Alduin looked directly at him, then seemed to follow him as he left the city.

It was that moment he seemed to recall a feeling he got. Right before Alduin appeared, a feeling of deep dread in his gut.

He dropped the axe just as a large, white dragon flew in from the mountains. It circled Winterhold and swooped in.

Picking up the axe again he took off running for the city, Shabvi and Okurava followed him.

The dragon was perched on the Jarl's longhouse swinging its tail. They locked eyes and the dragon rumbled, "Dovahkiin."

Daro'akha squinted at the large reptile.

It leapt from the building and circled before landing in the middle of town, guards rushed the dragon but it seemed to only focus on Daro'akha. The dragon opened its jaws and shouted " ** _Fo Krah Diin_**!"

Frost surrounded Daro'akha but he remained unfazed, brushing ice crystals off his arms he ran forward. He leapt onto the dragon's head and swung the axe. It sunk into the thick, snowy scales and the dragon screamed. It tried to shake the elf off but Daro'akha refused to let go, instead swinging the axe down again. He felt it connect with the dragon's skull, dazing the beast. Two more swings and he felt the dragon's skull crack and the dragon went limp. Daro'akha jumped from the dragon, coated in blood, and started walking back towards his parents.

"It's still moving!" Someone screamed. "What's happening!"

Daro'akha turned around to see the giant corpse thrash on the ground as the skin burned away. He heard a loud whoosh of air then the only sound he heard was his own blood pumping. He screamed and fell to the ground, curling in on himself. Fire and ice seemed to fill his veins at the same time, burning him from the inside out. It felt like forever before the burning stopped and his agonized screams died down to pained whimpers.

"I can't believe it!" He heard a shout. "You're Dragonborn!"

He felt a hand on his arm. His body seemed to move on it's own instincts as he lashed out, snarling. He felt his nails sink into fur and heard a shout of pain. Soon he realized it was Shabvi he was clawing. Horror flooded through him as he father stumbled back, blood pouring down his face.

"Shabvi!" Okurava shouted and raced forward, catching her oldest friend before he hit the ground.

Daro'akha tried to stand but another wave of pain ran through his body, causing him to collapse again.

**_Fus_** -Force

Black creeped along the edge of his vision, as he gasped to catch his breath. The last thing he saw was a guard bending over him.


	4. Hir

Warmth was the first thing he felt when he woke. Then the smell of herbs filled his nose.

His eyes shot open and he gasped, sitting up.

"Oh good you're awake," a soft, female voice came from somewhere in the room.

Daro'akha bared his teeth at the woman in the doorway, "Where am I? Who are you?"

"My name is Colette Marence, expert in Restoration at the College of Winterhold," she greeted before entering the room, unfazed by the elf's behavior.

"What happened?" Daro'akha demanded.

"Well you killed the dragon, then collapsed. Light flooded your body and you seemed like you were being tortured. Dragonborn, a man who is born with the soul of a dragon. If legends are to be believed, then you are the last. And this, is the end of the world," Colette explained. "You seemed to not only absorb the soul of the dragon, but the knowledge. We had to empty the room, you kept Shouting everything out of the room."

"Sorry," Daro'akha frowned.

"Don't be, you gave me a chance to see a real life Snow Elf, might I just add that you are gorgeous. Also some of your physiology seemed to change, your teeth and nails seem sharper, like a Khajiit's," she gestured to his hand.

Looking down, he realized she was right. He had short but sharp claws on his hands. He found a looking glass beside him and examined his teeth, they too were short but sharp. They looked more like a child's claws and fangs, like they had yet to fully develop.

"Now, about those claws. They seemed to shorten, along with the the teeth, once you were calm. Also, you caused quite some damage to your...father, the Khajiit, when you lashed out. Nothing I could not heal, but there will be some scars, along with the loss of his left eye," she said carefully.

Daro'akha tensed, "So...I what? Clawed half his face off?"

"I think you should see for yourself, can you stand?" She offered her hand.

He carefully took her hand, mindful of his new claws, and rose to his feet. A wave of dizziness hit him and he gripped the bed frame for support.

Colette waited patiently for him to regain his senses and slowly led him to another room.

Shabvi was sitting on the bed reading a book when they walked in.

"Father?" Daro'akha tried softly.

The Khajiit looked up and Daro'akha gasped. Along the left side of his face, there were long, ugly marks moving all the way down his neck, disappearing under the hem of his shirt. He wore an eyepatch over where his left eye used to be, more jagged scars spread along his forehead, to a shaved part of his head.

"Oh my god," Daro'akha felt tears running down his face. "Father...I..."

"Hush," Shabvi patted the bed beside him. "I do not blame you."

Daro'akha stumbled to the bed and sad next to his father.

"I will take my leave," Colette nodded and exited the room.

"I did this," Daro'akha gingerly reached out to brush his fingers along the scars.

"Just one more thing to make you special," Shabvi smiled. "Dragonborn huh?"

"How can you be so calm?" Daro'akha wanted to shout, but instead he spoke in a broken whisper.

"Because, you are my son. You were not yourself," Shabvi spoke softly. "I will not say you did not do it, but I will say it was not your fault. Did Colette tell you that the Graybeards summoned you?"

"No, she didn't," Daro'akha knew the stories of the Graybeards, he also knew the story of the Dragonborn.

"Will you go?" Shabvi's calm mask faltered, showing how worried he was.

"I will, I always wanted an adventure," Daro'akha tried to joke, but he felt himself crying.

"Good, I think it is for the best, to be with people who can teach you to master your gifts," Shabvi nodded.

"Goodbye Father, I promise to write this time," Daro'akha hugged his father tight.

"Make sure to see your mother, before you go," Shabvi smiled and hugged his son.

Daro'akha quickly retreated from the room, he looked down to realize he was just wearing his leather pants. He found his vest in the room he woke up in and made his way from the college, back down to the city.

The body of the dragon was gone and the snow had covered any blood, like it never happened.

Guards watched him carefully as he made his way through the city. He hesitated before passing the tavern, deciding to simply pack and leave.

At the house he found the axe he used to kill the dragon leaning against the wall, just inside the door.

He made his way to the cellar where he found a pack of arrows, bones, scales, gold, and a few gems. Presumably the loot from the dragon.

He added an iron dagger to the bag and slung it over his shoulder; he found his hunting bow and slung it over the other shoulder, attaching a quiver of arrows to his hip.

He left a note for Okurava before leaving the warm home and walking down the path. He found his instincts were extremely heightened and he was learning skills faster. He snuck by a bear, a frost troll, and a pack of wolves. He also shot a rabbit, deer, and a goat for food.

While the cold didn't bother him, he could feel it change slightly as he passed into The Pale, following the signs to Dawnstar.

He continued to sneak past animals and even a giant camp before he got to the city. The Khajiit caravans were set up just outside town. He noticed a chest, packed away behind the camp.

Upon opening the chest, he realized it was all of the caravan's wares. He only hesitated for a second before emptying the chest. It wasn't like he hadn't stolen quite a bit before, but this was the first time he actually robbed someone.

He snuck into the city, avoiding the Khajiits. He headed for the inn so he could rent a room and look through everything.

The guards watched him and the tavern patrons stared at him. He was able to rent a room fairly easily, shutting the door behind him.

He payed the contents of the chest out on the bed, sorting through. He put all the useless things in a bag and dropped it next to the door.

He then sorted through the weapons and picked up a dwarven bow. Several mismatched quivers of arrows were also in the pile, he mixed them all into one, setting the empty ones aside. There were several two handed weapons, like swords, hammers, and axes, but he didn't like the weight of them. Instead he held an elven sword in his hand, giving it a few test swings.

He left the elven sword, dwarven bow, and arrows on one of the tables, putting the rest of the weapons into another bag to sell. He quickly grabbed an orcish dagger and tossed it to the the weapons he was keeping.

He sorted through the armor next, he found he had no real preference between heavy or light. The light armor was just quieter when sneaking, which wasn't an issue since he was fairly well versed in Illusion magic.

Deciding to take one set of each he set a set of steel armor aside and put a set of elven armor on. He left the helmet aside in favor of taking a hood to cover his face. All the rest of the armor was pushed to the side, to be sold with the weapons.

There were also several soul gems, empty and full, along with a handful of gems and jewelry. He put the gems and jewelry into a satchel that he hooked on his belt. He grabbed all the equipment and headed for the Jarl's.

With a little flirting he was able to get the court wizard to allow him access to her Enchanting table. He knew enough to study and learn the enchantments off of some of the gear, then apply them to his weapons and armor. He added some that he felt were useful to the surplus weapons so they would be worth more. A ring and necklace also got enchanted.

Once he was done his sword dealt a small amount of frost damage, his bow dealt shock damage, and his dagger trapped souls in empty gems. His hood made illusion spells easier to cast, his gloves helped cause more damage with bows, and his breastplate made his light armor tougher; his boots helped him carry more, his ring made it easier to pickpockets, and his necklace made him harder to detect when sneaking.

He nodded to the wizard and made his way to the blacksmith.

"Looking to buy?" The woman greeted.

"And sell, I need ore, but I also need to get rid of some weapons. Think we can work something out?" Daro'akha had learned a few things about smooth talking from Shabvi.

In the end, he bought all the ore and leather they had, sold the weapons, and left with just over two thousand septums.

He smiled and headed back to the inn, only now there was a dark elf priest talking to the innkeeper.

The priest sighed as the innkeeper walked away.

"I bet you know something about how all these nightmares I keep hearing about," Daro'akha greeted the dunmer.

"They are in serious danger, and I'm afraid there is little I can do about it," he said.

"Then leave. This isn't your problem," Daro'akha shrugged.

"Turn my back on these people when their lives could be at stake? I should think not," the other elf huffed. "Those dreams are not just visions, they're a footprint left by the Daedric Lord Vaermina as she drains these people of their memories!"

"Well what do you plan on doing?" Daro'akha chuckled. "Don't fuck with the Daedric Lords."

"I need to return to the source of the problem, Nightcaller Temple," he paused for a second. "Perhaps you'd be willing to assist me in that regard?"

"Wait, you said 'return', like you've been there before," Daro'akha squinted.

"I've already said too much. If anyone overhears what we are saying, it could start a panic," he looked around to see if anyone was close enough to listen in. "I would simply ask that you trust me and help me end Dawnstar's nightmares."

"Trust you? I don't even know you!" Daro'akha laughed.

"My name is Erandur, I am a priest of Mara, and I can end these nightmares," Erandur was practically begging.

"Fine, I'll help, but I don't trust you, you're hiding something," Daro'akha agreed.

"So you'll help? Wonderful! My lady Mara will be quite pleased!" He smiled. "Nightcaller Temple is just a short walk from Dawnstar. Come, we must hurry."

Daro'akha gestured for Erandur to lead the way, "So...who is Vaermina?"

"Vaermina resides in a strange realm called Quagmire...a nightmarish land where reality shifts upon itself in seemingly impossible ways. From her citadel in the center, she reaches forth to collect our memories, leaving nothing in return apart from visions of horror and despair."

"What are the memories for?" Daro'akha watched the other elf wrap his robes tighter around himself, hoping to protect himself from the cold.

"Who can say? Perhaps she collects them for display like works of art in a nonsensical are gallery," Erandur offered his hand to help Daro'akha up a steep part of the mountain path. "Whatever the case me be, her intentions are far from benevolent."

They walked up the mountain a bit further. "It feels good to finally help these people. Helplessly watching them suffer has been difficult," Erandur pointed up the mountain. "The tower on that hill is our destination. People around here call it the Tower of the Dawn. I'm not familiar with the tower's history, but it was deserted for quite some time before Nightcaller Temple was established inside. When the temple was active the priests were rarely seen in Dawnstar. They preferred to live a solitary existence. The temple's been abandoned for decades now. Ironic isn't it...a ruin inside a ruin? There's a small shrine to Mara I established inside the tower's entry hall. I was hoping to seek spiritual guidance from Her."

Daro'akha followed wordlessly as Erandur lead them up the mountain.

Three ice wraiths were outside the door. Daro'akha crouched and pulled an arrow.

Erandur rushed them, shooting fireballs as Daro'akha shot them from cover.

Once they were dead Erandur turned to him again, "Before we enter, I must warn you about the dangers that could be lurking within. Years ago the temple was raided by an Orc war party seeking revenge..they were being plagued by nightmares just like the people of Dawnstar."

"Did they succeed?" Daro'akha crossed his arms.

"No. Knowing they could never defeat the Orcs, the priests of Vaermina released what they called 'The Miasma,' putting everyone to sleep," Erandur's gaze seemed remorseful as he glanced at the door.

"So if they are asleep, what's the danger?" Daro'akha knew some sort of catch was coming.

"I'm concerned that when the place in unsealed, the Miasma will dissipate and they'll awaken; both Orcs and priests alike. The Miasma was created by the priests of Vaermina for their rituals. It's a gas that places the affected in a deep sleep," Erandur chose his words carefully and spoke slowly. "Because the rituals would last for months or even years, the Miasma was designed to slow down the aging process."

"So is it dangerous? The gas I mean," Daro'akha tensed his grip on his sword handle.

"Sadly, yes. The longer an individual is exposed to the Miasma, the more the mind can become damaged," Erandur's voice had quieted. "Those who've been under the effects of it for extended periods of time have been known to lose their minds entirely. In some cases, a few never awoke at all. It will all become clear once we are inside."

Daro'akha sighed and followed him inside.

Inside was a room that looked like any other temple, only there was a large stone carving of Vaermina on the center of the room.

Erandur walked up to it and nodded, "Just give me one moment and I will have this open." Magic shot from his hands and the carving faded, revealing a doorway. "Now I can show you the source of the nightmares, over here."

They walked to a small opening in the wall, closed off with a grate. Erandur pointed, "Behold, the Skull of Corruption, the source of Dawnstar's woes. We must reach the inner sanctum and destroy it. Come, there is no time to lose."

They walked further into the temple, two Orcs awoke and attacked them. Erandur grumbled and dusted his robes off.

A glowing, blue barrier kept them from continuing. Erandur swore, "Damn it. The priests must have activated this barrier when the Miasma was released."

"Looks pretty hard to breach," Daro'akha studied the magic barrier.

"Impossible actually," Erandur looked defeated. Suddenly he perked up, "I wonder... There may be a way to bypass the barrier, but I must check their library and confirm that it can be done."

"Okay, enough shit. You know too much about this place, what are you hiding," Daro'akha drew his sword and pointed it at the dark elf.

Erandur seemed unfazed, "I suppose there's no point in concealing the truth any longer." Erandur took a deep breath. "My knowledge of his temple comes from personal experience. I was a priest of Vaermina."

"Why be so secretive?" Daro'akha lowered his sword.

Erandur looked longingly at the corpse of a priest, "When the Orcs invaded the temple, I fled. I left my brothers and sisters here to die. I have spent the last few decades living in regret and seeking redemption from Mara. And by Her Benevolence, I will right my wrongs."

"All right," Daro'akha sheathed his blade. "That you for being honest, I'm ready when you are."

"I still have my library key. Let's move on," Erandur lead them to a locked wooden door.

As Erandur fiddled with the lock, Daro'akha leaned against the wall, "So how is the skull affecting Dawnstar anyway?"

"Lore holds that the Skull holds a constant hunger for the memories of others," the door swung open, revealing a ransacked library. "The Skull has been out of touch for so long, I fear it have gained the ability to reach out on its own and try to feed. What it does with these memories is just conjecture and an argument for scholars and historians to this very day."

As they walked in a priest and Orc awoke, attacking each other then turning against the two elves.

Once they were both dead Erandur pushed forward, "We mustn't tarry...the Skull needs to be destroyed as soon as possible. Be careful, we are sure to find more awakened further in."

They crossed a small bridge and several more Orcs awoke.

"Such a shame," Erandur sighed as the final Orc fell, "this library was once filled with arcane volumes. Now look at it; almost everything has been burned."

Once they were sure there were no more awakened, Erandur sent him to search for a book.

One the balconies he saw a collapsed pillar that functioned as a bridge. Across the pillar was the book they were searching for, sitting on a pedestal.

"Erandur! I got it!" Daro'akha leapt from the edge of the balcony and landed in a crouch. He was confused for a second as to why he did that and how he didn't break his leg.

"Mara be praised! There is a way past the barrier," Erandur flipped through the tome. "It involves a potion called Vaermina's Torpor. The Torpor provides the priest with the ability called 'The Dreamstride'; using dreams to travel in the real world."

"That's ridiculously impossible," Daro'akha shook his head.

"I assure you, the Dreamstride is well known in the lore," Erandur insisted. "Sadly, I have yet to see it function in person."

"I assume you will be feeding it to me then?" Daro'akha sighed.

"The Dreamstride only affects priests of Vaermina and the unaffiliated. As a priest of Mara, it would not affect me," Erandur explained.

"Nope. No way, this will kill me! Forget it!" Daro'akha crossed his arms and shook his head.

"No, all my research points in the opposite direction. This is the exact elixir the priests would have drunk. The only question is whether you'll be allowed the Dreamstride, if not the worst that could happen is a bad aftertaste," Erandur coaxed. "I swear upon Lady Mara, I would never let any harm befall you."

"Gods...fine where can we find the Torpor?" Daro'akha pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Laboratory in the east wing. If we proceed there, we should be able to find a sample," Erandur closed the book and handed it back to Daro'akha.

As they started walking, Daro'akha found himself less anxious than he thought he would be, "So what will this feel like?"

"You'll be viewing the memory of another. You may find that your words and actions may not be your own," Erandur explained.

"How will I wake up?" Daro'akha asked when they go to the laboratory.

They killed a few Orcs and priests before Erandur answered, "I will watch over you while you slumber. If I deduce anything amiss I shall use magic to wake you. Go look for a bottle, very similar to a potion. Tall bottle with a dark liquid."

Daro'akha nodded and made his way to the lower part of the laboratory. He spotted a dark bottle on one of the shelves and grabbed it, "Erandur? This it?"

"I'm relieved you found a bottle intact; this place looks as though it was ransacked by the Orcs," Erandur carefully handled the bottle. "You must drink."

"I would like to express my extreme unhappiness about this," Daro'akha muttered and opened the bottle. Taking a deep breath, he downed the entire bottle in one go. "I don't-" he was cut off when he was plunged into darkness.

Suddenly it was bright and he was by two other priests; the environment seemed fuzzy and it sounded like he was listening though water.

The two priest spoke about the Orcs before turning to him and giving him the he task of releasing the Miasma.

He agreed with words and a voice that weren't his then made his way through the temple, dodging fighting Orcs as he went.

When he pulled the chain to release the gas he was thrown into darkness again.

"You did it!" Erandur was shouting.

Daro'akha blinked twice and looked around, he was on the other side of the barrier. He carefully removed the soul gem that was powering the barrier, allowing Erandur to going him.

"You vanished after drinking, I have never seen anything like it," Erandur explained excitedly.

"It served its purpose," Daro'akha felled heavy and dazed.

"After that you are not amazed? I am at a loss for words," Erandur looked shocked.

"Isn't there a thing we need do?" Daro'akha still had a hard time thinking clearly, his brain foggy.

"You're right, let us go and finish this. Let's destroy the Skull," Erandur lead the, to the sanctuary.

Daro'akha barely registered fighting the awakened. The two priests that appeared and argued with Erandur didn't even register to him, the closer he got to the Skull, the harder it was to think.

Erandur began his ritual and a seductive, female voice filled his head.

He is deceiving you. Once the ritual is complete, the Skull will be free and Erandur will turn on you. Quickly! Kill him now. Kill him and claim the Skull for your own! Vaermina commands you!

Daro'akha drew his bow and aimed at Erandur's back. One shot and Erandur fell with a shout.

"What are you doing?!" Erandur cried out as another arrow hit his chest.

"Vaermina's will," Daro'akha said as he let one more arrow fly, sinking into Erandur's skull with a cunch.

Once the Skull was in his hands, the fog cleared from his mind and he stared down in horror at the corpse of the dark elf.

He fled from the temple, drawing his hood further down and setting course for Mothal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the hell took me so long you ask? Well to that I have a simple answer: I'm lazy as fuck. I have at least 20 chapters already written, sooo yeah.


	5. Hen

It was warmer in Morthal, not by much though and the swamp made the air thick and muggy. He decided not to stay very long in the small town.

"What have you got for wine?" Daro'akha sat at the bar after unloading his gear in his rented room.

"The usual," the bartender set a bottle of red wine on the bar.

"I'll take the bottle," he said and handed the gold over.

The bartender nodded and handed him a tankard.

"So, any rumors you're willing to share?" Daro'akha took a gulp of the sweet wine.

"Anything in particular you are looking for?" She leaned against the counter.

"Why don't you tell me about the burned house," he said, pouring more wine into his steel cup.

"Ah, Hroggar's house. It burned recently, his wife and daughter died in the fire," she shook her head. "They're screams woke half the town. People are sure it's cursed. Hroggar said it started as a hearth fire; you ask me, he started it himself. Why else would he swear himself to Alva the next day? The ashes weren't even cold. Try talking to the Jarl, she might pay you to get to the bottom of this."

Daro'akha thanked her, corked his wine, and left the inn.

It was even warmer in the Jarl's longhouse. Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone lounged in her throne, watching him approach.

He was careful to make sure his face was hidden under his hood, "I hear you are looking for someone to look into the burned house? I also hear people around here are to worried about a curse to touch the ashes."

"Hroggar blames his wife for spilling bear fat in the fire. But many believe he himself set it, driven by lust for Alva," she regarded the elf carefully. "If you are willing to look into it, I would happily reward you."

"Consider it looked into," Daro'akha bowed his head and exited Highmoon Hall.

It was a short walk to the charred remains of Hroggar's house. His instincts lead him to a corner of the house were the ghost of a small girl was sitting, knees drawn close to her body.

"Hey there, I'm Daro'akha," he said softly and crouched in front of her. "You must be Helgi? Hroggar's daughter? Can you tell me what happened?"

"The smoke woke me, it was hot and I was scared. So I hid," she said in a small voice. "Hey do you wanna play with me?"

Daro'akha paused before smiling, "Sure."

"Okay! But only after dark, that's when the other one comes out," she frowned. "If you find me first I will answer more of your questions."

"What other one?" Daro'akha asked, careful not to push the girl.

"She is close, if she hears us she will be angry," Helgi disappeared before he could ask anymore questions.

Glancing up at the sky, he figured he had about an hour before sun down. So instead he strolled through the town, deciding that he wanted to brush up on his thieving skills.

He chose the house by the lumber mill, it was slightly out of town and the guards didn't cross the bridge often. Looking around, he crouched down and examined the lock. He always had an affinity for locks, it got him into a lot of trouble when he was younger.

The door opened for him fairly easy and he carefully walked further into the house. It was a small one room home so he was fairly confident in his ability not to get caught. He grabbed whatever seemed valuable from the cabinets, not caring if the place looked clearly ransacked.

A locked chest at the foot of the bed was his final target. The lock was slightly more secure than the front door, but he still managed to open it. Inside was just some gold, armor, a few pieces of jewelry, and the hilt of a dagger; the hilt felt warm in his hands, compelling him to take it as well.

He quietly exited the house, noting the sun was almost below the horizon. Something twinged in his gut as he approached the burned house. Lowering his hood he stood in the middle of the carnage of the house, listening for any hint of the ghost girl or the 'other one'.

The sound of someone digging caught his attention. He moved carefully towards the sound, weaving through the trees towards the cemetery.

A woman was digging up a small, half exposed coffin.

"You must be the other one," Daro'akha unsheathed his sword. "Now, thing is, I don't think you're supposed to be out here."

She turned and snarled, eyes glowing a bright red.

"Oh," Daro'akha sighed.

The woman rushed him, crashing into him and crashing them both to the ground. His sword was thrown away from them as they rolled on the ground.

The woman hissed and lunged for his throat, fangs bared.

Pain shot through his body as she missed anything vital and tore against muscle. He lurched and screamed. His body suddenly became extremely warm and he had a surge of strength; he threw the vampire off of him and grabbed his dagger from his boot.

" _ **Bo ahst zey,**_ " Daro'akha didn't know the language he spoke in but he could understand it all the same.

He moved faster than the vampire when she rushed him again, this time sinking his dagger to the hilt into her neck. Her eyes widened and she gurgled before falling to the ground.

Heavy footsteps running towards them made Daro'akha quickly pull his hood back over his face.

"By the Gods! My Laelette! She's dead!" A man ran to the bloody corpse. "She's...she's a vampire."

Daro'akha felt the blood running down his chest and he stumbled a little, "You didn't know she was a vampire?"

"She had disappeared, I...I thought she had going to join the rebellion," the man said through tears.

When he moved, pain flared through Daro'akha's entire body, "Anything else you could tell me?"

"She was spending a lot of time with Alva before she disappeared, when just a week before she despised her," the man stood. "In fact she was supposed to go see Alva the night she disappeared, but Alva said she never showed." He looked from the body of his wife to Daro'akha, "Do you think Alva is a vampire?"

"It's a possibility worth looking into," Daro'akha clenched his teeth. "I think I'll go pay Alva a visit."

The man crouched back down by his wife as the guards showed up. Daro'akha stepped back into the shadows, practically dragging himself back to the inn.

Once in his room he struggled to remove his armor, dropping it unceremoniously to the ground. Blood smeared his chest and fresh blood flowed from the bite mark. The wound was deep enough to mark his collarbone and some of the teeth tore enough to leave strips of flesh dangling painfully.

He felt like his blood was boiling as he wrapped his neck and shoulder with shaky fingers. His head felt heavy and he collapsed onto the bed.

Sleep didn't come easily as he trashed and whimpered. Pain wracked through his body, keeping him from sleeping for too long.

When he woke he felt hollow and starved; his throat felt dry and scratchy. He moved sluggishly, blood still feeling like liquid fire.

There was a knock at the door, "You only paid for one night."

"Here," he gave the owner enough for a week and shut the door again.

He fell back onto the bed and shook. The pain he felt rivaled the pain he felt when he absorbed the dragon's soul in Winterhold.

He bounced between consciousness and unconsciousness; his blood switched from frozen to boiling.

Several people knocked on his door but none actually entered the room.

All he registered was pain and he lost track of time. He didn't even know how long it was before he was actually, fully conscious.

Someone was pounding on his door and shouting.

"G-give me a minute!" Daro'akha stood too fast and was greeted with a wave of dizziness. He quickly put his armor on to cover his skin and the bite wound on his collar. He barely had his hood down before the door was thrown open.

Several guards stood outside the door.

"The Jarl would like to speak with you," one of them said and looked around the room.

"Alright, let's go," Daro'akha followed the guards to Highmoon Hall. He squinted and flinched away from the sunlight.

The Jarl sat up when he entered, "I never did catch your name."

"Daro'akha," he bowed his head.

"That's Khajiit isn't it? I haven't seen your face but I don't see a tail," she stood and approached him.

"I was raised by a Khajiit and an Argonian," he explained, surprised by the scent of the Jarl's blood. He carefully masked his surprise and did his best to not smell her.

"Well, Daro'akha, you have been locked up in that room for almost four days," the Jarl explained. "We were worried."

Daro'akha's mask faltered, "Four days..."

"I have a few ideas but I would rather we spoke about them in private?" Jarl Idgrod led him to her personal quarters and shut the door. "Will you remove your hood?"

Daro'akha hesitated before lowering the hood. He hadn't glanced at his reflection recently but he had a feeling, based off recent events, he was quite the sight.

Idgrod gasped, "You're gorgeous."

Daro'akha barked out a humorless laugh.

"You're eyes are like melted silver," she said in awe. "Are you..?"

"Snow elf," he crossed his arm, inwardly flinching at the pain shooting from his shoulder.

"We recently had a resident, Thonnir, recently come to tell us about his vampire wife. He also said something about the mysterious hooded man who had killed her," Idgrod studied his face with open curiosity. "I assume he said everything to you that he did to us, about Alva. I wondered why you hadn't acted. Then I heard of you locking yourself away. After recently fighting with a vampire? Tell me I am incorrect."

Daro'akha tensed, "You...are not wrong. The vampire bit me and I didn't know until it was too late that I was infected."

"I find it strange, that instead of red eyes like other vampires, you have silver eyes," she offered a looking glass. "Have you always looked like this?"

He studied his reflection, there were subtle changes; his eyes were a more intense silver, his skill was a paler color, and the fangs he already had were longer.

"You have a dangerous beauty to you, like a rose," Idgrod said. "I believe that the contraction of this disease will help you immensely. It will certainly help with what I am about to ask."

"What would you ask?" Daro'akha spoke softly, still studying his sharp features.

"We searched Alva's home and discovered her vampirism. We also found her journal; the journal goes into great detail of her plans and reveals that Movarth, a master vampire I thought was long dead, plans to enthrall this town," she spoke gravely. "I would ask that you deal with Movarth."

"Can I ask something of you in return? Can you keep not only my vampirism but my origin as well between us?" Daro'akha asked carefully.

"I can do that," she smiled softly.

"Then I will...remove Movarth," Daro'akha nodded. "Will you provide soldiers or am I going in alone?"

"I will gather several able bodied warriors, they will be waiting outside the vampire's lair for your orders," Idgrod gently raised his hood again.

"I will return when the task is complete," Daro'akha bowed his head and strode from the room. He himself could tell that his movements were more graceful, more catlike.

The sun was only halfway through the sky, he knew this would be the best time to catch all the vampires in one place. He pulled his hood further down to cover his eyes and walked into the marshes.

The marshes were shadier, which Daro'akha was thankful for. He strolled through the swamp until he saw Movarth's lair. Several warriors stood outside, looking at the cave cautiously.

"We have to go in there? I don't think this is a good idea," one of the warriors shifted nervously.

"Then don't, I don't care," Daro'akha said and crossed his arms. Several of the men left, leaving only the husband of the vampire who changed him. "Am I going in alone?"

"They may be scared, but I want revenge for my Laelette," he gripped his sword tightly.

"We should try to sneak, less likely to be lunch," Daro'akha suggested and they navigated their way through the cave opening.

Thonnir followed his lead. They only got caught once when the target moved unexpectedly and Daro'akha's arrow hit the wall instead of her.

"That must be Movarth," Daro'akha said from his place crouched on a raised walkway. He felt inexplicably drawn to the other vampire. He knocked an arrow and took a deep breath.

"What are you waiting for?" Thonnir hissed.

Daro'akha clenched his teeth and took aim, stalling once more. He almost dropped his bow when an image of Helgi, cowering in the corner of her burned house, flashed behind his eyes. He growled and let the arrow fly.

The sound of the bow firing caught the attention of the vampires but the arrow still went clean through the master vampire's skull.

Thonnir shouted and jumped down, sword drawn. Daro'akha gave covering fire until they were sure all the vampires were dead.

"What happened up there? It was almost like you didn't want to shoot him," Thonnir said as they exited the cave.

"I...didn't," Daro'akha confirmed.

Thankfully the sun had gone down, so when they were outside Daro'akha didn't feel like he was about to burst into flames.

The two men walked silently back to town, parting at the inn.

"You're sure I can't buy you a drink?" Thonnir shouted as the elf walked away.

Daro'akha didn't answer, just waked to Highmoon Hall. The Jarl smiled when she saw him.

"I assume everything went well?" She rose.

"Yes, Movarth is dead," he said stood a little straighter.

"Good," she seemed to think for a moment before speaking. "You are fairly well known throughout my hold and I would like to make you thane."

Daro'akha stared at the woman with wide eyes, "But I'm..."

"I thought that was just between us," she winked.

"Then I would be honored," Daro'akha smiled.

"Then by my right as Jarl, I pronounce you thane," she smiled back. "You can now buy property and I will assign a housecarl to you."

"Thank you, my Jarl," Daro'akha bowed his head.

"Oh come now, after all we have been through? Call me Idgrod," she rested her hand on his shoulder.

"Alright, Idgrod," Daro'akha grinned. "Since its night, I should probably start walking to Solitude. Hope to make it by morning."

"I hope to see you again soon," Idgrod patted his hands and returned to her throne. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ????? Like I honestly don't know????? I'm way ahead of this on my doc??


	6. Six

When Daro'akha got to Solitude he tensed; all the Imperial soldiers felt like they were staring at him, like they knew who he was. So he traded and left, this time hiring a carriage to Markarh.

By the time the sun was up he was asleep, telling the driver to wake him when they got to the stone city.

They didn't make it until after the sun went down so Daro'akha was already awake when the large city came into view.

He thanked the driver and made his way to the city. He glanced over when he heard a man and woman scream, the guards flocked to the scene and Daro'akha elected to ignore it.

A man bumped into him and he immediately grabbed him, prepared for a pickpocket. But the man just handed him a note, "I think you dropped this."

He was gone before Daro'akha could ask what he was talking about. He shoved the note in a pocket and continued to the inn.

There was only one other man drinking, a blonde Nord in hide armor.

"What can I get you?" The barkeep was a young high elf with piercing gold eyes.

"You on the menu?" Daro'akha was always flirtatious but this elf was definitely not the kind to go for him.

To his surprise the man laughed and winked.

The Nord snorted into his mead.

"Got a problem buddy?" Daro'akha had dealt with thick headed Nords back home. Always trying to fight him because he liked men.

"I have watched so many poor boys and girls try and get into Teliiel's bed. They all leave disappointed," the Nord smirked. "100 septums says you can't do it."

"100 septums says I can," Daro'akha challenged.

Teliiel came back over and smiled at Daro'akha, "Want a room?" His words were heavy with meaning.

"I'd love one," Daro'akha doled out the correct amount of gold and took the key to his room.

"I can't help but wonder if there's a pretty face under that hood," Teliiel bent his head to look under Daro'akha's hood.

"Meet me in my room and I will show you a lot more than my face," Daro'akha smirked at the elf and slid from the stool, making his way to one of the rooms.

Not far behind was the high elf.

"Well I like to keep my promises," Daro'akha lowered his hood once the door was closed.

"You're beautiful," Teliiel reached out to touch Daro'akha tied hair.

"Yeah," Daro'akha dismissed the compliment and kissed the elf.

By the time he remembered his sharp fangs it was too late, the sweet taste of blood filled his mouth. Teliiel arched against him, his moans seemed to make resistance much harder.

Daro'akha couldn't stop himself before his teeth sunk into the young elf's neck. The blood soothed the dryness in the back of his throat.

He felt the other man go limp and tried to stop. When he tasted no more blood he thought he finally got himself to stop feeding on the kid.

He soon realized that he had killed him. The man in his arms was dead, drained of blood.

"Shit, shit!" Daro'akha paced.

"Hey I was gonna head home, open the door so I can give you your money," the Nord pounded on the door.

He opened the door and tried to look calm, while blocking his view into the room.

"You are remarkably well dressed for a man who is supposed to be naked," the Nord slurred.

"He was quick," Daro'akha was silently begging the Nord to buy it and leave.

"Hey...is that blood?" The blond Nord pointed at a few drops of blood on his breastplate.

"Shit," Daro'akha hissed.

"What's going on?" The Nord narrowed his eyes and pushed his way into the room.

Daro'akha didn't even try to stop him.

"By the Gods, you killed him," the Nord stared at the body. "Is that a bite mark? Are you a vampire?"

"You are remarkably more intelligent than I gave you credit for."

"Well are you going to help me with the body or not?" The Nord asked as he lifted the corpse.

"What? Why in Oblivion are you helping?" Daro'akha watched the Nord through the body over his shoulder and gesture at the door.

"Because you interest me," he shrugged. "My name is Cosnach, by the way. If we are disposing of bodies together we should know each other's names."

Daro'akha hesitated for a moment, "My name is Daro'akha."

Cosnach nodded and carried the body casually through the inn. Daro'akha followed the Nord through the city to the blacksmith. The city seemed deserted, all the patrols just ignored them.

"Why aren't they suspicious?" Daro'akha whispered.

"They are so used to people sneaking around at night that they don't even bother asking anymore. The guards in this city stopped doing their job a long time ago," Cosnach shrugged. "Why? Where are you from?"

"Winterhold, the guards are pretty strict because of the mages. The prison was part of the city that fell into the ocean, they just lock you in a cage in a cave out on an island. Frost atronachs patrol around too," Daro'akha grimaced. "I was sent there once when I was caught stealing. My parents thought it would teach me a lesson about stealing."

"And? Did you learn anything?" Cosnach threw the body into the water behind the forge.

"Yeah, how to steal better," Daro'akha smirked.

Cosnach laughed, "I like you."

A gust of wind made Daro'akha realize that he never put his hood back up. He quickly pulled his hood up to cover his face.

"Why do you cover your face?" Cosnach cocked his head.

"Because I'm a freak," Daro'akha sneered at himself.

"Says who?" Cosnach asked as they walked out the City Gates.

"Where are we going?" Daro'akha looked around.

"We are leaving the city, Teliiel was fairly well liked."

"I don't need a traveling companion."

"Well as I said, you interest me."

"We should take the carriage to the next hold. It's easier in the morning," Daro'akha slowed beside the horses, digging for his coin purse.

"We can find shelter when the sun comes up," Cosnach continued walking. 

"I don't think you understand...Cosnach, I don't recover in direct sunlight, even a minor scratch could be a setback," Daro'akha followed the Nord closely.

"Well you're a vampire, I'm not worried about minor scratches, and once the sun is up I can do the bulk of the fighting if you need me to," Cosnach shrugged. "Wait what about feeding?"

"Well I was turned...three days ago? This was the first time I had ever fed. I feel...weak," Daro'akha crinkled his nose.

"Really? Huh," Cosnach frowned. "You would think that it was opposite."

"You would," Daro'akha walked silently beside Cosnach.

"So where is our final destination?" Cosnach asked after a while.

"The Graybeards, I...I'm Dragonborn..." Daro'akha knew Nords were fairly obsessed with their stories.

"You? You're the Dragonborn?" Cosnach chuckled.

"Listen, I'm not happy about it either," Daro'akha snapped.

"That's not what I meant," Cosnach laughed. "I don't care that you're an elf, I doubt fate cares. I was laughing because you don't feel like an adventurer."

"That's because I'm not," Daro'akha bristled. "I want to go home, be a petty thief. I want to take care of my parents when it gets too cold for even my father to go out and hunt." Daro'akha growled. "I want to sneak into the college and watch the mages." Tears welled in his eyes as he stopped walking. "I just want to go home and have my old life."

Cosnach stared at the elf, "I can understand that." He looked at the rising sun and nodded, "Let's stop until night, we should be able to find a cave if we walk a little ways into the woods."

Daro'akha followed Cosnach into the woods until they found a small overhang that functioned as a makeshift shelter.

"I'm going to get some rest, you should too," Daro'akha curled in the furthest part of the cave, where there was no chance of the sun ever reaching him. He laid so his back was pressed against the wall, facing the other man. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! I am incredibly sorry for how long this took me. It is absolutely absurd. And I would never have continued if sir/madam phoenixiasaturn had not commented. As I told them I fully planned on finishing all the stories I have started on here. I will try to post regularly, aiming for every Wednesday or around there. But please please please keep in mind that I am graduating high school in a few weeks so things are pretty stressful ATM. Also know that I recently got a new job, so that may interfere with writing and uploading regularly. And finally, I have started writing a tad bit more professionally. If you are interested in anything I've written that is an original work you can find it here: https://writingramblesweb.wordpress.com/ but I am currently on hiatus until I finish out my senior year. I appreciate any support from bookmarking, kudos, or comments. It will keep me more motivated to finish what I started. Oh, one last update, I have gotten a lot better at editing recently, and writing in general, so I will be revising and reworking the majority of this fic. It will remain mostly the same with the same storyline but with better grammar and flow. Again, I am so sorry for how long this took but I look forward to finishing this for you guys. -Jo


	7. Seven

"Why are we in Windhelm again?" Daro'akha grumbled, pulling his mask up to better cover his face. 

 

"Because, I don't think you would survive if you just went to the Throat of the World, imagine what they would have you do," Cosnach shrugged. "I know a smith here who can get you good weapons for cheap, just don't ask where they came from." 

 

"Great," Daro'akha wrapped his arms around himself. 

 

"You are a thief, a vampire, and a murderer, you don't get to judge, Daro," Cosnach smirked. He led them to one of the houses in the back of the city. He opened the front door and shouted into the warm house, "Saeer!" 

 

"How does one from Markarth know anyone from Windhelm?" Daro'akha made a mental layout of the house, from what he could see. 

 

"Long story," Cosnach shook his head and walked further into the house. "Saeer!" 

 

A man jumped to his feet and pointed a scimitar at them. It took him a second before recognition registered on his face, "Cosnach?" 

 

Saeer was clearly much younger than Cosnach, or maybe Cosnach just looked old from drinking so much. The smith had cold, blue eyes that made Daro'akha tense. His head was shaved bald to reveal many scars. 

 

"We need weapons, good weapons," Cosnach sat at the dining table. "Armor too if you have it. Preferably something with a mask for my friend here."

 

"You're awful demanding, Cosnach," Saeer smiled and gestured for them to follow as he made his way down into his cellar. "Now I can tell you want something that will last, right? Unlike iron armor where you want to change it to steel as soon as possible, right?" 

 

"Correct," Daro'akha subconsciously stood straight so that we was taller than the Nord. 

 

"As far as armor, I can tell you a few rumors of things you might be interested in," Saeer was either an amazing actor or he was genuinely unimpressed by Daro'akha. "Now weapons, I can get you some pretty good weapons." 

 

"What's the catch?" Daro'akha clasped his gloved hands behind his back. 

 

"No catch, I owe Cosnach my life," Saeer shrugged. The smith dug around in several chests, "Have you ever heard of Solstheim? Mostly dark elves up there, but they know how to make weapons. Now, I very recently got a...shipment of Stalhrim weapons. Take a look." 

 

The Stalhrim weapons were made with a blue metal and a thick, heavy leather. The metal itself looked like ice; it also wasn't smooth like steel or iron, instead looked very jagged and rough.  

 

The sword was surprisingly light in Daro'akha's hand, he gave the sword a few test swings and smiled under his mask. He grabbed the bow and arrows sitting in the chest as well. 

 

Cosnach picked up a heavy looking battle axe and a dagger, "You said you had rumors on armor?" 

 

"For your friend, you said something with a mask? I can give you the locations of several rumored armors. Cosnach, for you I know you just want something heavy and durable. This armor is from Solstheim as well," Saeer pulled out a full set of leather and metal armor. "Carved Nordic." 

 

Cosnach smiled and proceeded to put on the new armor. 

 

"You can mark the locations of the armor on my map?" Daro'akha unrolled the large parchment. 

 

"I would first tell you what you are facing," Saeer sighed. "Dragon Priests; thousands of years ago, these priests ruled over Skyrim at the behest of their Dragon overlords. In service, many of these dragon priests were granted extraordinary powers and knowledge in arcane, and some of them managed to reach Lichdom to evade their own demise." Saeer folded his hands and leaned forward. “There are eight high ranking priests each wear a unique dragon priest mask that bears a powerful enchantment, which said to be given straight from dragons, their gods." 

 

"And you know where they are?" Cosnach sat down, now in a full carved Nordic armor set. 

 

"After quite a bit of research, I have determined the location of five masks," he pointed to several spots on the map, a different name in each spot. "Volsung, Otar, Morokei, Krosis, and Hevnoraak." 

 

"What do they do?" Daro'akha crossed his arms. 

 

"I would be most interested in Krosis or Hevnoraak myself, but I will let you decide. Krosis gives a boost to lockpicking, archery, and alchemy; Hevnoraak makes you immune to disease and poison. Morokei helps rebuild magicka; Otar improves fire, shock and frost resistance, and Volsung makes you stronger, makes people give you better prices and allows you to breath underwater," Saeer reciting the list, it was clear he had been hunting these masks for years. 

 

"I like the sound of Krosis," Daro'akha nodded. "Where is that mask?" 

  
"Shearpoint, a dragon lair fairly close. It is just southwest of the city," Saeer circled the spot on his map. "Now the armor itself could be a little more touchy, depending on the person. Have you ever heard of Boethiah?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Okay. OKAY. I'm trash, okay? Okay. I know I know I KNOW I promised to update regularly but I have worked almost every day. And if I haven't been working I've been working at school. AND. Every moment in between has been spent on being sick. I just finally regained the ability to hear out of my left ear after a week. So yeah, that's how I've been. No to mention my laptop. The charger chord does not work anymore and I do not get paid until tomorrow but I won't be able to get my check until Monday


	8. Chapter 8

"This was a bad idea," Daro'akha hissed from his spot hiding behind a rock. Krosis hovering around, looking for him. He could see the sun rising and cursed.

 

"I can distract him, you are a fairly good shot with that bow, so shoot him where it will hurt," Cosnach whispered beside him.

 

"Oh such a great idea, Cosnach, you run out there and make noise, I'll shoot him with a brand new bow I am not used too yet. You're a genius!" Daro'akha growled. "We have been fighting for almost an hour, he has to be close. Just keep up like we have been until he dies."

 

"But the sun-" Daro'akha cut the Nord off.

 

"I'll be fine, just...try to kill him fast," Daro'akha gripped his bloody sword and took a deep breath.

 

They both jumped out at the same time. Cosnach charged forward, drawing Krosis' attention; Daro'akha ran behind the priest and took a swing at his head.

 

By the time the priest was dead, Daro'akha's skin was crawling from the sunlight and he was tired. He pried the mask off Krosis and sighed, "All that for a piece of bronze."

 

Cosnach chuckled and dug around for a few potions.

 

Daro'akha put the mask on and felt the old magic seep into his body. He took a deep breath and sighed.

 

"Alright, now to sell your soul to a Daedric Prince," Cosnach said cheerfully.

 

"Wait," Daro'akha walked over to the large, curved wall carved with strange markings. He felt a rush of air as he ran his fingers over the words.

 

**_MODIR FIN GUT WahLaaN QETHSEGOL_ **

**_ZeyMahii VahRUKT OSKAR_ ** **_  
_ ** **_FIN Mey WEN ZUL LOS SahLO ahRK_ ** **_  
_ ** ****_NI SahROT THuuM DO OK BROD_

One word seemed to stick to him, Zul. It felt like the meaning was on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite remember it.

 

"Daro? You okay?" Cosnach rested his hand on Daro'akha's shoulder.

 

A low whine escaped the elf's mouth as he leaned on Cosnach.

 

"Hey maybe we should get some rest before we go to Boethiah," Cosnach practically carried Daro'akha down the mountain.

 

"My head," Daro'akha whimpered and shied away from the sun.

 

"I know," Cosnach hushed him. "We are almost back to the city."

 

Daro'akha stumbled and clung desperately to Cosnach. He was slightly bothered by how weak he appeared, but he also had a trust for the Nord.

 

"Everything alright here?" A guard approached just outside the city.

 

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just had a little too much to drink and I'm gonna get him the inn," Cosnach adjusted so that he was between Daro'akha and the guard.

 

Once in their room, both men relaxed slightly. Cosnach laid Daro'akha on one of the beds in the room and sat on the other to watch him.

 

Daro'akha attempted to remove his armor with shaky fingers; he struggled with the straps until Cosnach batted his hands away and carefully removed the armor.

 

"You're warm," Cosnach said softly as inspected the cuts and bruises on Daro'akha's chest.

 

"Am I?" Daro'akha slurred.

 

"I want you to stay awake for a little bit," Cosnach handed him a healing potion. "Just until this does its job."

 

Daro'akha grunted and downed the bitter potion.

 

"Hey, talk to me," Cosnach sat with his back against the headboard and let Daro'akha rest in his lap. "Tell me about Winterhold."

 

"Cold," Daro'akha mumbled. "People say it's cold but I guess the cold doesn't affect me because I never noticed. It was bad for Okurava, my mother. She's an Argonian. She raised me with Shabvi, her childhood best friend. He's the one that named me, cause he's Khajiit." The elf took a shaky breath as he felt the potion meld his flesh back together. "The first time I went hunting with Shabvi we found some frost trolls. It was...not fun at first. Then we climbed a tree and they couldn't get up. We just shot them until they died, we took all three bodies home. It was a long walk and Shabvi almost passed out. We used the skins to make a jacket and blankets for Okurava. She made soup with the meat." His eyes became distant.

 

"You must miss them," Cosnach said softly.

 

"Very much," Daro'akha confirmed quietly, tears streaming down his face. "I love and miss them but I can never go back. Not now. I almost killed my father when we found out I was Dovahkiin, imagine it now that I'm a sosnaak."

 

"Wait, what? Dovahkiin and sosnaak? What language is that?" Cosnach furrowed his brow.

 

"I don't know, but I know that is means Dragonborn and vampire," Daro'akha groaned. "Now what in Oblivion is happening."

 

Cosnach squeezed his hand, "Relax, we can deal with it later."

 

"Cosnach?" Daro'akha felt his eyelids get heavy.

 

"Hmm?" Cosnach hummed.

 

"I'm tired," Daro'akha breathed and felt himself relax into the Nord behind him.

 

"Okay, I'll still be here when you wake up," Cosnach promised.

 

"Okay," Daro'akha closed his eyes and fell asleep.


End file.
